


Until We Laugh Again

by ensorcel



Category: Military Wives (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27367774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/pseuds/ensorcel
Summary: A companion piece to the amazingatlantisairlock'sbeautiful story"if you're lost, you can look (you will find me)".Frankie isn't totally blind. (Mum and Kate were a little stupid.)AU where Richard and Red are killed in action and Frankie deals with the fallout.
Relationships: Kate Barkley & Lisa Lawson, Kate Barkley/Lisa Lawson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Until We Laugh Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atlantisairlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/gifts).
  * Inspired by [if you're lost, you can look (you will find me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103504) by [atlantisairlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock). 



> The amazing, lovely, and magnificent [atlantisairlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock) pulled me straight into black pit of these two foolish lesbians' clownery, so here we are!

Her music blasted through her headphones—shit, she forgot her keys. Rushing back, Frankie quickly glanced over her outfit in the mirror, hastily straightening her skirt before dashing in the hallway. Grabbing her backpack, she wrenched the door open to the vague shout of her mum shouting her name and—

There wasn’t much Frankie remembered from that day. 

But it was cold, even for northern England, even in September. The air was crisp and it was slightly foggy out and she should’ve put on gloves and her dad was dead and Mum just stood there as the two men in dark suits gave their condolences in somber words and Frankie, Frankie just wanted to punch someone. 

She couldn’t remember if she did. 

There wasn’t much she remembered from that day. She didn’t think she went to school. She didn’t think she left her room.

She wasn’t sure if she read Dad’s letter from last week. (She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.) 

“Where you going?” 

Mum looked up. She was fiddling with the strap of her bag. She gave Frankie a tight smile. 

“Just to check in with Kate—you remember her, right?” 

“Yes, of course I do,” Frankie replied, picking around with her morning cereal. “How’s she?”

“Good,” Mum replied, shoving her phone into her bag. Frankie narrowed her eyes. A month ago, she would’ve left it. But now it was just her and Mum and Frankie wasn’t just going to let things lie now. 

“Mum,” Frankie pressed, because she could and she didn’t want to give anything up now. 

“Dad wasn’t the only one on tour, you know,” Mum said, looking at her softly. Frankie froze. Her head snapped up. 

“Oh.”

Mum placed a hand on Frankie’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. 

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Frankie said, as Mum gave her a squeeze and a smile. 

“I’ll make sure to do so. I love you, I’ll be back this afternoon,” she replied, heading for the door. 

“Love you too,” Frankie replied, because she hadn’t said it enough to Dad and she sure as hell wasn’t going to miss it with Mum either. 

She thought about Kate and about Jamie and about Kate’s husband and how a person could go through all that grief and not break. She thought about Dad and his smile and how much she missed him and how much she wanted him to come home. 

Wondering if her mum and Kate were talking about it together because at least she had Carla and Grace and she was going to school and she didn’t know how distracting her mum’s job was and hell, she didn’t even know if Kate _worked_ , period. 

She glanced at the clock, placed the dishes in the sink, and walked to the bus stop with Dad’s last letter looping in her head, like her music, like the cold the morning he died, like Mum’s kisses. 

She hugged Carla hard once she got to school and looped her arm through Grace’s with Dad’s letter in her backpack and Mum’s words in her head. 

Dad’s funeral crept up quicker than Frankie’d expected, almost caught her shoulders and shook her awake. It was a closed casket. Frankie could guess why. 

Mum pulled out a black dress from God-knows-where and Frankie was dressed up in something formal for the first time in a long, long time.

She tried her best not to cry but it didn’t work and Mum pulled her into a tight hug as the ceremony ended and Dad’s casket was taken out of the church and she just noticed Kate was standing beside them, stiff as rod, with a reassuring smile on her face.

She squeezed Frankie’s shoulder and gave Mum a kiss on the cheek. Frankie wiped at her face with her sleeve just as Kate offered her a handkerchief. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, sniffling. Kate smiled again. 

“You’re welcome, dear,” she replied, grabbing Frankie’s hand. “Come on, let’s get you two outside.” 

Frankie sniffled again and followed Kate’s strong stride outside of the church, Mum trailing behind. 

“A bit of sunshine never hurts, does it?” Kate asked, leading them into the outside yard, looking up at the sky, shielding her eyes with a hand. Frankie nodded. Mum had a hand on her shoulder. 

Frankie looked up. It was warm. A little too warm. And the clouds looked like dogs. She glanced over to Mum, who was standing between her and Kate, with her arms looped through theirs, staring at the graves. 

She quickly scanned the tombstones, looking for Kate’s husband’s, until she realised that his funeral wasn’t until tomorrow. And Kate was just standing there, arm in arm with her mother, face up, soaking in the sun. 

Frankie looked for Jamie’s name instead, scanning the headstones, completely missing it until she followed Mum’s gaze. 

_James Matthew Barkley. For such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Loving son, friend, darling. 1998 - 2020._

A pang hit Frankie’s chest. She hadn’t known Jamie; some of the older students spoke about him from time to time—he was just five years older. 

She wrapped an arm around Mum and bathed in the sunlight. I hope you’re watching, Dad. I love you. 

Richard’s funeral was similar. She wore the same thing as yesterday. It wasn’t like anyone was going to notice, and if they did, it wasn’t like they’d call her out on it. The day was colder. And the sun wasn’t out. And Kate wasn’t beside them with a handkerchief and a calming smile. 

“Go on, I’ll meet up with you,” Mum whispered in her ear as she headed towards the front pew. Kate was standing there like a frozen statue. Frankie nodded and shuffled her way out, watching her breath fog up in the cold air. She walked over to Dad’s grave, shoving her hands into her pockets for warmth. 

She tried to say something. Nothing came out. 

Frankie blinked frantically. Her fingers wound around Kate’s handkerchief and she pulled it out, still slightly damp from yesterday and shoved her face into it. 

Her mouth opened but no sound came. Her tears were silent today. 

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, please, please, come home._

She thought about Dad’s smile and the way that he’d throw her up as a child and the way he beamed when she brought home good grades and how he laughed at Mum’s bad jokes. 

A tug at her arm startled her, her hand jerking up. 

“Whoa, tiger,” Mum joked, grabbing her hand and pulling her close. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

Frankie nodded. 

“Okay,” she said and they walked the familiar streets of Flitcroft that she’d just realised that they’d need to leave. 

She remembered all those times she wished they would move. That Dad would leave the military and she could live in a normal neighbourhood with normal people and normal schools. A dread sank in her stomach and she held Mum’s arm tighter on the walk home.

She went to school. She came home. She did her homework. She ignored invites to parties. She talked to Clara. She talked to Grace. She talked to Mum. She helped out with dinner. She always said I love you. 

Mum was always either at work, or in the kitchen, or with a bottle, or in the living room with papers sprawled around for whatever the choir was doing at the time. There never music before. Dad never quite cared for anything and Mum had never really had any preferences. But there was always music for Frankie. Blasting through her headphones. 

Now it was in her house. Since the choir started, Mum was always tinkering around with that old keyboard of theirs, her soft voice filtering through the wall, light and beautiful. 

“Do you want to contribute? To the song, I mean?” Mum asked one day, as Frankie was curled in bed staring at her phone, trying not to think of Dad and his great, brilliant laugh. Mum crawled in beside her, Frankie nestling in closer. 

“How?” Frankie tucked her phone away, looking up at Mum. 

“If there’s a line of your dad’s, from your letters. Something you’d like us to sing. I can figure that out. It could be like hearing his voice again.” 

Frankie sniffled again, wiping her face with her sleeve. _I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._ Mum stiffened a little, pulling her closer. 

“I know it’s not the same. It’s fine, if it’s not something you want.”

“No, it’s—I’d like that,” Frankie replied, clinging to Mum. “I think.” She rubbed at her eyes again. “I want to hear him again. It’s not fair.” 

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

Mum stroked her hair and Frankie burrows deeper into the blankets, her eyes burning up and her chest tight. 

Mum whispered words into her ear she didn’t catch. Frankie thought of her room and Dad’s room and Dad’s things and Dad in the dining room and Dad fixing the coffee table and realised that Flitcroft was all she had known. 

“We’re going to have to move off the base, aren’t we?” 

Frankie couldn’t stop it from tumbling out. 

“I wanted to, Mum. I kept wishing and hoping for it and now it’s all—it’s all wrong.” The tears were there hard, Frankie curling in the blankets and into her mother’s embrace more. 

“Frankie, this isn’t your fault.” 

Frankie sniffled again. 

“I know,” she whispered. _I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

She fell asleep in her mother’s arms once again that night. 

She travelled with the choir to London for the Day of Remembrance, helping Mum a bit with her hair and touching up her makeup. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kate sitting in front of one of the mirrors to the side, staring at her hands. Frankie strutted over—these new boots were quite something—and tapped her on the shoulder. 

“You ready?”

Kate’s neck snapped up. 

“Oh, yes, yes of course,” she quickly replied. Frankie pulled up a chair and grabbed a brush and powder, holding them up. 

“May I?” 

Kate looked a little surprised, but nodded. Frankie started to quickly apply the blush to the apple of Kate’s cheeks, going gently. 

“How’s Mum doing?” she asked casually, tiling Kate’s face up into the light a little more. Kate frowned. 

“Okay,” Kate simply said. 

“Mhm,” Frankie replied. 

“How are you doing?” 

“I could ask the same of you,” Kate shot back, looking at her sharply. 

“You’re on stage in five minutes,” Frankie grinned, pulling her up. “Kill it!” 

Kate chuckled and Frankie pushed her towards Mum, who looped her into a quick up. 

“Good luck,” Frankie whispered in Mum’s ear. Mum smiled. She looked happy. 

She watched the choir sing from the sidelines, beaming as their graceful and beautiful notes and her Dad’s words echoed throughout the chambers, and how he would’ve loved to see this and how she wished he was here to see this and how much she missed him, missed him, missed him. 

(But don’t you dare think she missed Mum grabbing Kate’s hand.) 

Once they get home, away from the loud, amazing, but somewhat exhausting bus-ride, Mum tucked her into bed like she was ten-years-old again and kissed her on the forehead and told her that she loved her and Frankie mumbled it back. 

The next morning, there was hot tea in the kitchen and fresh pancakes. The living room was surprisingly clean and the kitchen too. Frankie narrowed her eyes. 

She tip-toed into the room, hoping not to startle Mum, who was humming the song the choir sung yesterday at Albert Hall. 

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, sitting down at the table, which smelt absolutely brilliant. There was maple syrup on the side and fresh flowers in the middle. 

Mum wiped her hands on her apron and sat down nervously at the table. Frankie frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, frozen. Her head started going a million miles an hour. Were they being kicked out? Was Mum fired? Did she need to transfer schools? 

Mum sighed and reached across to tousle her hair. “I can’t hide anything from you anymore, can I?” 

Frankie grinned, just a little. “Nope.” 

“Kate has found a lovely home just outside of Flitcroft. It’s—” Mum began. “It’s a little out of both our financial ability, so she suggested that we move in together.” 

If Frankie grinned before, she was beaming now. 

“Near Flitcroft?” she asked. “You mean I wouldn’t need to switch schools?” 

Mum breathed, clearly relieved. “Yes. You’d still go to school here and there’s a supermarket close by as well.” 

Frankie reached across and grabbed Mum’s hand. 

“That sounds lovely.” 

Mum smiled. A bright one, one like Frankie saw yesterday before the choir performed. 

“I’ll take you this afternoon,” Mum said, squeezing her hand. 

“You made me all this just to tell me that we’d be moving in with Kate?” Frankie joked, diving into her pancakes after drowning them with syrup. She thought she saw her mother blush. 

The house was beautiful, small, quaint, and close to Flitcroft. Moving out went as smoothly as it could—a couple of tears from Frankie and a little from Mum, but the other wives and Kate were there and Frankie’s heart maybe, just maybe, wasn’t as broken as it was that cold winter morning long ago. 

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

She watched as Mum closed the door on what was their home for almost all Frankie had known and she took one last look as her, Mum, and Kate drove out to the new house. 

_I miss you, I miss, I miss you._

She missed Dad, but as she watched Flitcroft slowly disappear, something settled upon her. This was something new. A new home, with Mum and with Kate. 

_I hope you’re watching. I love you._

Frankie bounded into the house with a bright smile and Mum and Kate’s laughter trailing behind her. 

The first thing she noticed about Kate was that everything was neat as all fuck. Living with Kate was no different. Everything continued to be neat as fuck. Frankie was a little worried about just moving the kettle. 

She told Kate this, who just laughed. 

“Dear, it’s your house as well, don’t forget that,” she replied with a smile and shifted the kettle back to where it was on the stove. She also quickly straightened the photo of Jamie on the fridge. There weren’t any of Richard. 

Frankie sipped her tea, wishing she had a biscuit or two until Kate slid a plate in front of her. 

“Jamie always had a sweet tooth,” she offered as an explanation. Frankie immediately grabbed one. 

“Thanks,” she said, munching on the biscuit. “I heard he was a sweet guy.” 

Kate laughed. “He was.” She sounded incredibly wistful and Frankie was worried she had just intruded on something incredibly personal. She’d never seen Kate like this. Not even at Richard’s funeral. 

“What if I came grocery shopping with you today? Get some things Mum likes,” Frankie offered suddenly, avoiding Kate’s eyes and broken smile. 

Kate perked up, patting her hand. “Of course, that’d be wonderful. Come on, let’s go now while your mother’s still at work.” 

Frankie quickly shoved another biscuit in her mouth and hastily grabbed her bag to follow Kate, who was already one foot out the door. 

“Wait up!” 

Kate just rolled her eyes and unlocked the car. Frankie clambered into the front seat, her knees pressed up against the dashboard. 

“One advantage of being short, dear,” Kate commented, patting her leg and turning the ignition on. 

The drive to the supermarket was short, barely five minutes, with Kate humming something along the way and Frankie staring out the window, watching the fields and grass and cows and horses blur by. 

They silently made their way into the Tesco’s and Frankie immediately headed for the sweets section, until Kate dragged her by the coat into the produce aisle. 

“Uh, uh, healthy foods first,” she reprimanded, and Frankie pouted. 

“Aw, come on!” 

“No, vegetables and fruits first,” she said. “I honestly don’t know what you and your mother were doing in that ridiculous fridge of yours.” 

Frankie laughed. “Fine, fine, but at least some candy, right?” 

Kate crossed her arms, glaring up at Frankie. She grinned at the fact that she was at least a good two inches taller than her. 

“We’ll see,” she said. Frankie looped an arm through her’s. 

“Come onnn,” she whined. Kate rolled her eyes and grabbed a shopping cart. 

“Later,” she said.

“Fine.” 

She helped picked some of the produce, grabbing a watermelon because why the fuck not and a bag of grapes, because Mum loved those and some oranges because they reminded her of Dad. Kate was quick, efficient, and it was clear that out of the Barkley family, Kate did everything. 

“Okay, sweets if you help out with dinner tonight,” Kate said, looking at some of the dark chocolate. 

“Dark chocolate? What are you, ninety-five?” 

“Yes,” Kate replied, deadpan, but ruining it with a very, very slight grin. 

Frankie immediately grabbed some gummy worms and bears, along with a couple bars of chocolate, and looking at Kate with puppy eyes for a bag of chips. 

“Fine. Don’t you dare try that again,” she warned as they headed for check-out. Frankie laughed. 

“Yes ma’am,” she replied, chuckling. 

“And never call me that again,” Kate said, wagging a finger at her. 

“Yes—” 

Kate looked at her threateningly. Frankie just burst into laughter as they reached the cashier, who must’ve thought she was crazy. 

They got back right before Mum came home from work and as Frankie flitted around in the kitchen, more so watching Kate do all the cooking than anything else, a warmth built in her chest. 

She went to bed with a full stomach, a hug from Kate, a kiss from Mum, and peaceful thoughts for the first time in a long, long while. 

Mum put up pictures of Dad everywhere, from above the fireplace to her room to the living room the fridge on the kitchen, and Frankie saw mixtures of her throughout them, but soon, she started to see Kate filtered about, scattered here and there. 

Frankie finished her homework in the kitchen, rather than in her room when they lived in Flitcroft, able to hear Mum’s singing every once in a while and study to the sound of Kate puttering around the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, humming. 

There was always music in the house. Frankie played it on the speakers, Mum played it on the keyboard, and Kate was always singing something in the house. 

_I hope you’re happy. I miss you. I love you._

The first time Frankie really suspected something was when she heard voices from her mother’s room when she snuck down for a glass of water. Kate’s voice. In Mum’s room. At two fucking AM in the morning. 

She froze on the stairs, not daring to make a sound. Damn the water. She scampered back into bed, throwing herself underneath the blankets and vowed not to think of it for the rest of night.

In the morning, she was surprised she hadn’t seen it sooner. For fuck’s sake, Mum _moved in_ with Kate. 

She should’ve fucking seen it at goddamn _Albert Hall._ The way Mum beamed. When she grabbed Kate’s hand. Frankie was close to smacking herself in the face. 

Jesus, was it obvious as all hell. 

A couple mornings after that, Frankie woke up extra early, setting a quiet alarm to make breakfast for Mum and Kate. After all, it was the least she could do, really, she thought, with a wicked grin on her face. She’d make pancakes, she decided, grabbing the pan and flour and eggs for the batter. They better have maple syrup. She can’t remember if she made Kate buy it last time they went grocery shopping. 

She almost pranced around the kitchen, humming some kind of song Kate had for the past couple of weeks, preparing a morning after meal. Man, Mum really couldn’t say shit to her. 

“Morning,” a voice behind her pipped. Frankie jumped. 

“Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed, turning around. It was Kate. She tutted at Frankie’s language. “Come on, you’ve heard worse.” 

“Not in this house,” Kate replied, yawning, shuffling over to the table. “So, what brings you up at 8:00 AM on a Sunday morning?” 

Frankie smiled cheekily. “I’ve just decided to do a little something.” 

Kate looked at her suspiciously. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing! Why would I want something?” 

“I’ve raised a teenager,” Kate replied matter-of-factly. 

“And here I am, just wanting to do something nice for you,” Frankie said dramatically, scooping a stack of pancakes onto Kate’s plate. “You’re welcome.” 

“Thank you,” Kate said gracefully. She was about to get up for the orange juice, but Frankie beat her to it. 

“Nope, today’s completely on me,” she quipped, grabbing the maple syrup while she was at it. “Mum up yet?” 

“Ye—I’m not sure,” Kate said, stumbling a little. Frankie beamed. Fucking knew it! 

“I’ll grab her,” Frankie replied, until Kate stopped her. 

“No, no, let her sleep in,” she said. Got’em! 

Mum didn’t wake until 9:00 AM and Frankie waited for her in the kitchen doorway with a shit-eating grin on her face. 

  
  


Mum asked her if she wanted to visit Dad’s grave and Frankie put on a brave face that she hadn’t thought about in a while and they were whisked off in Kate’s shit car back to Flitcroft and Jamie and Richard and Dad. 

Frankie knelt in front of the grave, slowly running her fingers over his name engraved in gold onto the stone. Mum sat beside her, gently holding her hand. 

“Hi Dad,” she began softly. _I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._ “Life with Mum is pretty good. I have to beg Kate now for candy, but I’ll admit, she’s easier than you. The puppy eyes work.” 

She chuckled, sitting down criss-cross in the grass. The day was a warm one, not unlike the day of Dad’s funeral, where the three of them stood not too far off from where Dad’s grave was now, bathing in the sun all those months ago. 

“I miss you. School’s going just fine. Kate’s helped out a little—did you know she used to be a teacher? Helped a lot with maths, since Calculus is a pain. Mum’s wonderful. Maybe I can convince her to let us get a cat.” 

“I wish you’d come home. I love you,” Frankie finished, kissing her hand and touching Dad’s name. 

The sun was warm. Frankie let Mum speak her few words and they find Kate, just across the graveyard, a long figure in front of two graves. 

Frankie couldn’t even imagine Kate’s pain. At least she still had Mum. She watched as Mum knelt down beside Kate, who was leaning against Richard’s stone, whisper in her ear. 

Frankie and Mum watched as Kate placed a hand on Richard’s grave for a couple of seconds, until she looked up at both of them with a small, but genuine, smile. 

“Let’s go.” 

And the three of them walked out, arm in arm, for lunch, and the sun was the brightest it’d been that entire year. 

Frankie was lighter. She watched the endless rolling fields from the back of their home, listening to a soft piece out-loud on her phone. Mum slowly sat down beside her. She smelt like gasoline and a little bit of honey lemon. 

Frankie glanced up at the sky, at the cloud, and how they looked a little like dogs. 

“I think I’m not sad any more,” she began slowly. Her voice didn’t waver. “I still miss Dad. I still wish he was here. But it doesn’t hurt every morning when I wake up like it did at the beginning. I just miss him, but I’m okay. Does that make sense?”

“Course it does. I feel that way too. And I think he’d be really proud of you right now.” Mum kissed her gently on the forehead. “He loved you so much, Frankie. I know he’s watching over you from wherever he might be.”

Frankie grabbed her mother’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “He loved you too. He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy or alone.” 

Mum laughed. The sun shone brilliantly on her. 

“I’m not alone. I’ve got you.” 

“And Kate.” (Frankie had to keep her shit-eating grin at bay.) 

“And Kate.” 

Two weeks later, Frankie’s studying was interrupted by a giant _THUD_ from the front door. What the fuck?

She hurried to the hallway, only to find Kate trying to shove a goddamn piano into the house. 

“What?” 

“Help me!” she panic-whispered, pushing the giant, somewhat beaten up thing. 

“Where the hell did you get this?” 

“It’s for your mother, now help me get this thing in!” 

Frankie rolled her eyes and grabbed the other end, pulling it into the house. 

“Jesus, this thing is heavy—how on Earth did you get it here in the first place?” 

“Pull now, ask questions later!” 

After around thirty more minutes of pushing, shoving, and heaving, Frankie and Kate finally got the damned into into the living room and up against the wall where they were supposed to have a TV. (Well, she clearly wasn’t getting one now.) 

“And this is for Mum?” 

Kate beamed. “That daft keyboard was getting on my nerves.”

“Where did you get a piano?” 

“Stole it from the garrison.” 

“What—” Until Frankie realised that it was _Kate_ that was speaking and punched her lightly in the arm. “Liar.” 

Kate laughed. 

“Got me there, I’m borrowing it from the garrison.” 

Mum screamed when she got back from work that day. 

She also kissed Kate. 

And kissed Kate. And kissed Kate. 

“Hello? Teenager in the room?” 

The two jumped apart like cats in water. Frankie just laughed. 

“We—”

“Frankie—”

Frankie just rolled her eyes. 

“You guys think you’re so mysterious, don’t you? You know I also live here, right?”

They both blushed and Frankie just cackled her way upstairs. 

Yeah. They were going to be okay.

**FIN.**

> _"It's something Jamie used to say. Until we laugh again."_ —Kate Barkley, _Military Wives (2020)_ dir. Peter Cattaneo

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed (this is just for you Ace since we're the idiots in this tag) and let me know what you thought if you did! <3


End file.
